The Bullet.

My father pressed the steely could but of the gun and whispered, "Shot me please." I begged my father to stop, and calm down. "Everything will be okay daddy, I promise. Please don't say that." I said wiping the snot and tears on my green sweater. But, he continued to force the black 9 mm pistol into my already trembling hand. "Just kill me. I can't take it anymore. I can't live like this. Just pull the trigger and let the bullet pierce my skull." he said getting agitated. But how could I murder my father, my best friend, my hero? "I cant Daddy! I just can't! I love you with my heart! I'm not going to kill you, please stop. You're breaking my heart.' I wept. Tears rolled down both my father’s face, and mine it happened. I witnessed my dad's suicide. If I wouldn't kill him, he'd do it himself, and he did. His last words were, "I'm sorry, you'll always be Daddy's little girl. I love you so much." BANG. The gun fired. Launching the 9 mm bullet in to father's head. As blood pored from his mouth and ears, I wept and scream in sorrow and fear. My best friend is gone, forever. Blood splattered both me and the walls with a utmost disgusting amount of blood. I immediately made a beeline for the phone. I swiftly dialed "911" and told the operator what had happened. She reassuringly told me help was on the way, while trying to calm me down. The EMS workers arrived shortly after I hung up. They laid my daddy down on a stretcher and covered him with white sheet that quickly became blood stained. I watched them load my father onto the ambulance and drive off in a hurry, not trying to cause a lot of commotion. I felt so alone. I had no one. Maybe if the cancer hadn't got to mom so quick, and she was still here, maybe dad would be too. Soon after I attended my father funeral, then the graveside were he was laid to rest, right beside mom. He date of birth and death date were neatly carved onto the head stone, only 3 days off from moms.